


Ace

by Jay_eagle



Series: Cabin Pressure LGBT+ fics [3]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Asexuality, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, ace!Arthur, ace!Martin, mild h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 06:50:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2378861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_eagle/pseuds/Jay_eagle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In response to Skygosh asking on Tumblr for some asexual Skipthur, and for a prompt on Dreamwidth asking for cuddle-buddy boyfriends (http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/6625.html?thread=13465057#cmt13465057).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Axolotl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axolotl/gifts).



“See you later, Arthur!” Martin waved happily as the steward disappeared from the flight deck with a grin and a jaunty salute.  They’d just landed at Fitton after a short hop to Copenhagen and back, and he couldn’t wait to shut GERTI down so he could finally go home.

 

He suddenly realized Douglas was looking at him speculatively. “What is it?” he asked, knowing that Douglas would likely tell him anyway – he had the plotting look that Martin had come to recognize so well.

 

Douglas shrugged. “Nothing,” he said, flicking a few switches, sending the plane’s engines whirring down to silence.  Martin watched him suspiciously, knowing that where his first officer was concerned, ‘nothing’ was rarely an accurate reflection of what was passing through Douglas’ cunning brain.

 

As Martin suspected he would, Douglas picked up the conversational thread just moments later with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. “You and Arthur are certainly spending a lot of evenings together, lately, captain.”

 

Martin flushed, then cursed his ginger complexion’s tendency to make it impossible for him to conceal any embarrassment, _ever_. “What of it?” His airy tone was hardly a cover when his cheeks were flaring beetroot, he knew.

 

“Well,” Douglas’ voice was teasing, “you must be having a _nice_ time. To keep wanting to invite him over like you have been.”

 

“Arthur’s… good company.”

 

“Doubtless.” Douglas smirked, then completed the shutdown. As Martin left the cockpit, he called after him. “Have a _lovely_ evening, won’t you?”

 

Martin’s only response was a momentary hesitation and a stiffening of his back, before he departed without another word.

 

* * *

 

When Arthur arrived that evening, he found Martin unusually quiet – Arthur’s waggle of the DVD of Dambusters that he’d brought didn't elicit the excitement he'd been hoping for. Instead of the warm hug that the captain normally bestowed on him these days, Arthur found himself being beckoned up to Martin’s room by a surprisingly downcast version of his Skip.

 

He took the proffered chair and scrutinized the captain. “What’s up?”

 

Martin glanced up, shrugged. “I’m fine.”

 

“Hey.” Arthur stood. “No, you’re not.”

 

Martin didn’t reply, and Arthur felt a jab of concern. “Have I done something wrong?” He wracked his brains for some error he might have made between GERTI and Parkside Terrace, but couldn’t come up with anything.

 

“No,” Martin replied, sounding utterly morose. “It’s me.”

 

“It’s not you, it’s me?” Arthur was suddenly frantic with worry. “That’s what my last girlfriend said.”

 

Martin coughed a laugh. “Is that what I am? Your girlfriend?”

 

“No, no,” Arthur waved a frustrated hand. “You’re my boyfriend, of course.” He was taken aback to notice how tense Martin suddenly became. A flood of sickening panic rushed over him. “Are you… are you splitting up with me?”

 

Martin’s eyes went wide. “No!” He sprang towards Arthur, chafed his hands. Arthur was detachedly surprised to realise that they’d been shaking by his sides. “No, no. I’m sorry. Here.” He pulled Arthur into one of the warm, gentle hugs that the steward adored. “Better?”

 

Arthur relinquished him after a moment and sat back down, relief trickling through his core. “Sort of.” He smiled. “Except that I don’t know what’s the matter with you, still…” At Martin’s hesitation he reached out to him, caught his hip where he stood. “You can tell me.”

 

Martin ran a hand through the ginger curls that Arthur found it so tricky to resist ruffling. “I’m worried. Douglas said something this afternoon – about how often we’re seeing each other – and then I thought what he’d say if he knew –“

 

“That we’re together?” Arthur interrupted, catching hold of Martin’s pale hand, entwining their fingers.

 

Martin looked down, still that air of slight disbelief evident in his glance at their clasped palms that always made Arthur’s heart skip a beat in flattered delight. “Yes.”

 

Arthur grinned. “He’ll tease us rotten, of course he will. He’s _Douglas_. But he’ll be pleased, on the inside.”

 

Martin winced, to Arthur’s dismay. “Your Mum will kill me.”

 

“Skip…” Arthur hugged him again. “I’ve told you already. She’ll be delighted, when you’re ready for us to tell her.” He paused. “You’re not in a pony club. That alone will make her very happy… At least with you I don’t go home smelling of horses.”

 

Martin snorted a laugh, but Arthur could sense he was still holding something back. He rubbed at Martin’s shoulder blades. “What is it _really_?”

 

Martin shifted uncomfortably. “How did you know there was more?”

 

Arthur beamed in spite of the situation, drawing back so he could look into Martin’s eyes. “That course I went on in Ipswich,” he stated, simply. It said a great deal about the progression of Martin’s relationship with Arthur that he just nodded. “Come on,” Arthur encouraged. “I want to know.”

 

Martin sighed. “What if they find out… that this is it? For both of us?”

 

“What?” Arthur was perplexed.

 

By way of answer, Martin drew him into another tight embrace, squeezing and letting him go before gazing at him expectantly. His Skip’s meaning suddenly clicked in Arthur’s brain. “Oh!” He nodded. “You mean that we’re both ace?”

 

Martin blushed furiously, but nodded. Arthur frowned. “Call me crazy, Skip… but don’t boyfriends usually worry that their partner’s mum – friends – will find out that they _are_ having sex?”

 

Martin didn’t answer, so Arthur continued, still totally at sea. “Why are you worried that they’ll find out that we _aren’t_? That we don’t want to?”

 

“Because… because…” Martin seemed to be struggling to get the words out. “I know you said it’s normal. That it _can_ be normal.”

 

“It is.”

 

“Yes, but…” Martin’s voice was miserable. “I’m still not used to not thinking it’s weird. That I’m a freak, somehow.”

 

“Oh.” Arthur’s heart sank in sadness. “You’re not a freak.” He hugged Martin tight. “Not in the slightest.”

 

Martin didn’t reply. Arthur thought for a moment. “Here.” He drew Martin over to the small futon that sat in the corner of the dingy room. “Lie down with me.” As he knew he would, he felt Martin’s hand go tense in his. “Hey.” He gave Martin a reassuring squeeze. “You know that _that’s_ not why I’m asking. I just want to help you.” Martin still hesitated, even though they’d done this several times before. Arthur persisted, gently. “I want you to be close to me.” He poked Martin’s nose.

 

At last, Martin nodded, stepping forward and scooting to the far side of the bed, tugging Arthur softly down after him. Arthur sighed in satisfaction as he felt Martin’s arms entwining him, but could sense his captain still fretting away. “This is between us,” he whispered, as reassuringly as he knew how. “No one – not Douglas, not Mum, ever needs to know what we do or don’t do when we’re together. You know that.”

 

Slowly he felt Martin nod. “If it makes you feel better, you can tell Douglas..." Arthur groped for an idea. “…that we’re swinging off the chandelier every night. I don’t care – though maybe don’t tell Mum that, she might actually hit you.”

 

Martin looked up at his attic’s bare light bulb and chuckled. Arthur, reassured, carried on. “Or you can tell them that we love just being near each other. That we make each other laugh… Well, except that I make you laugh sometimes without meaning to –“

 

“But that’s a good thing, you know.”

 

“I know.” Arthur felt a little pulse of happiness buoy his spirits like a rubber duck in the bath. “Your time with me – it’s ours. Ours. What you do or don’t want to do – you have nothing to be ashamed of, and nor do I – but it’s up to us what we choose to tell people.”

 

Martin pondered, then exhaled a long, deep sigh. “You’re right. I know you are.” He looked sheepish. “Sorry for describing myself – us - as freakish. I know we’re not _really…_ This is just new to me.”

 

“I know.” Arthur squeezed him lovingly. “It’s OK. It’s a lot to get used to.”

 

Martin relaxed completely, to Arthur’s relief, the happy smile the steward loved to see spreading across his face. “I’m just being a silly idiot.”

 

Arthur grinned. “Yes.” He nudged his nose affectionately into Martin’s chest. “But it takes one to know one.” 


End file.
